Sailor Port: A New Pretty Soldier is Born
by DreamingDragonStories
Summary: Professor Peter Port of Beacon Academy has a deep, dark secret. He is obsessed with an animated series called Sailor Moon. But such secrets can't be kept forever.


**Sailor Port: A New Pretty Soldier is Born**

 **Author's Note: This fabulous monstrosity is brought to you by multiple admins on the Zwei – RWBY Facebook page ( Zw31RWBY ).** **Enjoy!**

* * *

There are two things that Professor Peter Port of Beacon Academy will never admit to anyone on the face of Remnant. Well, three things, but the third is something he'd inadvertently revealed to his co-worker and hunting partner, Professor Bartholomew Oobleck.

Three, he's afraid of mice. And who could blame him! They're disease-ridden, disgusting vermin that would better serve as compost than anything else. And don't get him started on their tails!

Two, he'd once fought an ursa that got its claws hooked under his suspenders and gave him the worst wedgie of his life. How embarrassing! He'd still beaten the beast, but he'd walked with a limp for a week afterwards. He told peers and students alike that the ursa had dislocated his knee as a cover story.

One, he's completely addicted to a Mistral-produced television program called _Sailor Moon_. Now, this program is marketed primarily to children, specifically young women. But its wonderfully complex characters, bright animation, and detailed worldbuilding are very appealing to adults, too. There's nothing wrong with that! He's man enough to admit he enjoys a program that features teen girl gossip, boy troubles, and overly dramatic transformation sequences. Ha, ha! Except, well, he's never admitted it out loud.

So he keeps _Sailor Moon_ as his dirty little secret because, unlike the Ursa Incident, his favorite program is not a one-time occurrence. In fact, he indulges his addiction at least once a week. It's now ingrained into his schedule, and if his huntsman duties ever get in the way of watching it, Port will be rightly miffed, indeed!

The more he watches his program, the more he starts to crave being a part of their world. Port would love to fight alongside them. He's even started daydreaming about his own transformation sequence. A huntsman, much like a sailor scout, is strong, graceful, and intelligent. A huntsman, much like a sailor scout, is beauty in motion. His poise, presence, and catchphrase would put all others to shame!

It isn't until one day, while using his scroll's network search capabilities, that Port realizes his daydream could become a reality.

He's supposed to be looking up statistics for his next lecture, but news about the upcoming _Sailor Moon_ episode distracts him. Within the article teasing the synopsis, he sees an advertisement for a 'Custom Order Sailor Moon Costume'.

Curious, he clicks the link.

As he reads across the page, Port's eyes widen in surprise and delight. A seamstress is offering to make a sailor outfit. A sailor outfit customized for him!

Port fumbles around in his office until he finds a measuring tape. He writes down his measurements, triple checking to make he has all that is needed for the seamstress to make his sailor outfit.

He doesn't think twice about the cost. This is an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! He has to have the appropriate attire. Once his order is placed, Port spends the rest of his day wishing it would hurry and get to him already.

* * *

The days pass, Port's impatience growing stronger all the time. He goes on a few missions, regales people with stories of said missions, and catches Barty trying to put a stuffed mouse in his desk drawer. The usual.

Finally, the delivery date arrives. But to Port's surprise, the package arrives at his Beacon office, not at his home. He'd been so excited to place the order; he must have forgotten to change the default shipping address.

No matter. He's as giddy as the day he finished building his blunderbuss-axe. Too impatient to wait until he gets home, Port unwraps his prize right there in his office. He's delighted to see that everything he could have hoped for is included: the skirt and blouse with matching bow, the high-top boots, and the tiara. He marvels at the quality fabric, the striking colors, the superb workmanship. Yes, this will do nicely.

Stripping off his suit, Port proceeds to put on the skirt, the blouse, the bow, the boots, and finally, the tiara. He stands in front of the mirror and eyes himself critically. The fit is excellent and the tiara shimmers a bit as he turns his head.

Port smiles. _It's time_ , he thinks, and takes a deep breath. "I am Sailor Port! I will triumph over evil, and that means you!" He strikes a pose and holds it for several seconds, looking over his figure in the mirror. Wonderful form, as he expected.

He then tries a different pose, more dramatic and physically strenuous than the one before it. He freezes in place and shouts, "I am Sailor Peter! In the name of the Oum, I punish you!" He once again evaluates his form, and is pleased to see that it is spot on. "Ho, ho!" he says.

He tries a couple more poses, but then movement suddenly catches his eye. He turns, concerned that he's been spotted, but sees no one. Strange.

He again faces the mirror, but his senses are on high alert. Someone, or some _thing_ , could be trying to sneak up on him. Port will not allow it. He waits a few seconds, and then spins around fast to catch his opponent by surprise. Still, he sees nothing.

As he turns back one more time, the hairs on his neck start to prickle. Port is not being paranoid; he _knows_ some foe is in the room. Reaching for his blunderbuss-axe, Port tiptoes around the room, listening carefully. He hears a faint scrabbling sound coming from under his desk. It reminds him of little fingernails scratching on wood. The prickle spreads from his neck to his mustache as he slowly bends down to see beneath the desk.

Two glowing, evil eyes stare him down. The beast lunges at his face.

Port shrieks, launching himself onto a nearby chair and throwing his blunderbuss-axe into the air in panic. A mouse in his office! A real one! He watches the horrid creature scurry across the floor, its grotesque tail wiggling back and forth like a demonic worm.

"Foul beast! Loathsome vermin! Be gone!" Port cries, stomping his foot on his chair in vain. He realizes, belatedly, that his weapon has clattered to the floor, useless. How foolish of him!

To his utter horror, Port sees the doorknob start to turn as a familiar voice calls, "Peter? Peter, what's wrong? Are you OK?"

Standing in his doorway a moment later is Professor Bartholomew Oobleck, perhaps the last person Port wants to see in this situation. Barty is staring at him, eyes wide and jaw slack as his gaze flickers between Port and the mouse. Port himself has one foot raised in the air, too caught up in the moment to set it down.

"Are . . . are . . . are you . . ." Barty is having trouble speaking, and it's likely due to the laugh Port can see him trying to suppress. "Are . . . you . . . wearing . . .?"

"Barty! Quit your damn stuttering and help me kill this vile thing!" Port points at the scurrying mouse about to disappear under his cabinet.

"Are . . . areyouwearingwomen'sclothing?" Barty finally manages to wheeze out, coming fully into the room and making a half-hearted effort to chase after the mouse.

"No! I'm wearing a sailor scout uniform. This is honorable battle attire that goes beyond gender!" Port explains, heaving a sigh at the end. Some people just don't understand.

"But . . . but ithasaskirtandbowandtiaraandeverything!" Barty says, still doing next to nothing about the mouse problem.

"Help me, damn it!" Port orders. He points his blunderbuss-ax at the spot where the mouse was last seen.

Barty smiles and whips out his thermos, taking a good drink before converting it into its fighting weapon form. He then hurries over to the cabinet and smashes it out of the way to get to the mouse.

Barty is trying to stifle a laugh, and if Port weren't so concerned about the mouse running rampant in his office he would silence that snickering buffoon right here and now. "Barty, hurry up!"

His green-haired, bespeckled hunting partner only smiles again. They both watch the mouse retreat under Port's desk, so Barty drops down the floor to get a better look. He aims his weapon under the desk and—to Port's horror—fires a shot.

The desk lurches, creaking like it's about to fall to pieces. Port's hands tighten into fists as he grits his teeth. Opening fire in his office? Barty has gone too far. Besides, those shots are flaming explosives! He cries, "Must you blow up half of my office? I don't recall such a thing ever being useful!"

Barty looks up at him and beams. "Ah, but Peter, this is the quickest solution! I daresay I hit the little devil!"

Port peers down at the desk, suspicious. "Where's the body?"

"Why, probably blasted into tiny pieces!" Barty gives his weapon a shake, as if to emphasize its power and efficiency. Port knows firsthand just how impressive it is against Grimm.

Still, he is suspicious. Port looks to the right of the desk. He looks to the left of the desk. He looks at the front and back. After a thorough inspection, he says, "Fire again."

Barty sighs heavily, rubbing his fingers against his brow. "Peter, I'm sure I took care of it! You can get down now."

"If I find that filthy, disease-ridden creature is still roaming my office—"

"—You'll smite me with your pretty bow powers?" Barty inquires, grinning wider than ever.

"Confound it, Barty, the power doesn't come from the bow! It's _celestial_ power! Power from the very cosmos!" Port huffs. He props his hands on his skirted hips and does his best to look dignified. "You don't understand."

Barty's expression grows serious as he says, "You're right, I don't. Please come down from that chair and help me understand."

Port does step down; slowly and with one foot daintily meeting the floor before the other follows suit. He straightens up and meets his friend's eyes. Barty meets his back, and there is no judgment in his expression. Curiosity is there, as it always is, and something else that makes Port's heart swell. He sees acceptance.

"I am a non-conventional fan of the television program _Sailor Moon_. I love it the way I love slaying Grimm: proudly and passionately," Port declares, and he feels a weight lift off his back. He nods his head and feels the tiara shift, but it holds firm.

"You know what, Peter?" Barty says, smiling and transforming his weapon back into a thermos. He takes a drink, making his pause feel heavy as it sits in the air between them. "…So do I."

Port snorts, rolling his eyes. "No. You don't. No fan of _Sailor Moon_ would think the scouts get their power from their _bows_. But . . . thank you, Barty."

"Hmm?"

"You just accepted my abnormal hobby and behavior. You're a good friend." Port claps a hand on Barty's shoulder and squeezes, smiling. "Now get out of here so I can change."

Barty nods and hurries to the door. He pauses before closing it to say, "You actually look quite nice wearing that . . . battle attire." Then the door slams and Port chuckles to himself as he changes clothes.

When he hears an all-too-familiar squeak a couple minutes later, an icy shard of apprehension pierces his chest.

"BARTY!"

* * *

The next day, Port finds himself once again in his office—this time mouse-free, thank goodness—and eager to put on his sailor uniform again. He must keep practicing his in-character techniques because he's just learned that there will be a special contest for _Sailor Moon_ fans. And the prize pack is an all-access pass to _Sailor Moon_ seasons, both past and future! In order to win, he must be the best girl . . . no, the best fan . . . no, the best SAILOR SCOUT of them all.

Contestants are required to record a video while in character, and Port yearns to prove himself. But the only way he'll feel ready is to practice, both at home and at work in his spare moments. After all, practice makes perfect.

He puts on the outfit, bow and all, and runs through his poses in front of the mirror. A few minutes later, he sets up his scroll to make a practice video.

A knock sounds on his office door.

Before he can even register how uncomfortable it'd be to have a visitor right now, a voice calls out, "Professor? I wanted to stop by and see if you . . ."

He turns around, eyes going almost impossibly wide at the sight of Yang Xiao Long standing in his doorway, staring at him and, like Barty, trying hard to keep from laughing.

Port really, _really_ needs to learn to use his door's lock.

* * *

 **The End . . . of Part 1**


End file.
